Trevor didn't deny it. "And you?"
Dax swirled the remaining wine in his glass, gaze steady. "And I can see that you didn't claim him yet," he said, voice low and even, "and I wonder what the hell is going on in your head."
Trevor didn't react at first. He simply set his glass down with the same precision he applied to every battlefield strategy.
"It's not time."
Dax leaned back, eyebrows raised. "That's rich coming from the man who gave Benjamin a forty-two-hour deadline and threatened to pull the commission if he used 'too much filigree.'"
"I knew what the ring meant," Trevor replied. "But I also knew Lucas needed space. Not another decision made for him."
"He's already yours, Trevor. Anyone with eyes can see it."
"He didn't awaken yet," Trevor said with a sigh, running a hand down his jaw. "The physician estimates his first heat will come in two months. You've read his file."
Dax's expression sobered immediately. "Yes, I did."
